


zero to sixty

by velvetnoodle (goldfishsunglasses)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Drunken Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, Motorcycles, Strangers to Lovers, kind of lol, more like meet-cute fail actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 02:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16338248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfishsunglasses/pseuds/velvetnoodle
Summary: Louis’ first mistake was pretending he actually owned a motorbike. His second mistake was pretending to own the motorbike that belonged to the very guy he’d been trying to pull.ORthe one where louis makes a terrible first impression





	zero to sixty

His name is Harry. 

His name is Harry, he’s taller than Louis, more built than Louis, and has just finished informing Louis that the motorbike Louis’ been trying to pass off as his own is actually  _ his _ . Harry’s. Louis is still holding the licence he - Harry - handed him to prove that the name on the vanity plate - Harry - matched up. 

(It did.)

In Louis’ defence, it’d seemed like a genius idea at the time. Nothing hotter than a bloke who rides a motorbike, in his opinion. And, logically, others must share his opinion, right? Plus, he looked really bloody good next to it, if he does say so himself. Something had made him choose a leather jacket over his usual denim pick, and it’d only served to bolster his fantasy. The one where he’s the bad boy who seduces fit blokes with his ace motorbike and rugged good looks. (He’s taller in this fantasy, though he’ll never admit that to anyone.) 

It was a completely brilliant plan, and he’d been so sure it would work. Especially when the fittest boy Louis’ seen in  _ ages _ exited the bar and looked Louis’ way. He’d been completely smitten within seconds, and ready to show off his sick ride. 

His first mistake was pretending he actually owned a motorbike. 

His second mistake was pretending to own the motorbike that belonged to the very guy he’d been trying to pull. 

Which is why he’s currently wracking his brain for a way to save this  situation. Because he still wants to take this boy home, despite the fact that he’s just made a giant wanker of himself. 

Maybe he’s found the one person who’d find that endearing. Probably not, though. Considering the way Louis’ luck has been going, and all. He can’t think of anything to say, and Louis can  _ always  _ think of something to say. He prides himself on that  fact, if he’s honest. Able to diffuse any situation with a joke or a snarky remark or just… anything. 

Except for right now. 

His words have failed him at the most terrible of moments, and he’s very nearly considering, like, running away when the other lad lets a loud honking noise, and Louis takes a step back. “What the fuck was that?” 

Harry seems to have surprised himself as well, eyes wide as he covers his mouth and takes his own step backwards. Except he ends up nearly knocking over his own bloody motorbike. 

Louis raises an eyebrow. “I thought people who ride motorbikes were supposed to be cool.”

“Hey!” Harry protests weakly. “‘ m cool! ”

Louis lets his eyes drag from Harry’s boots - cool, but less so on Harry’s pigeon-toes - to the top of his curly-haired head. He  smirks and watches delightedly as Harry goes a bit pink under the scrutiny. The fact that he’s not the only one embarrassed here, that the playing field has been equalised,  is immensely satisfying . He risks another scan of Harry’s body (quicker this time, but no less thorough) and allows his smirk to drift into something lazier. Flirtier, even. Cos Harry’s well fit, is the thing, and Louis is nothing if not opportunistic. He’s on the verge of coming up with an epic line when Harry beats him to the punch. 

“You look like someone who knows how to ride,” he says, and there’s enough uncertainty behind the sexy slow blink to curb any annoyance at the come on, but not so much that Louis can resist taking the piss. 

There goes that honking laugh again. “Did you or did you not just actually use the world’s lamest pickup line on me?”

“That depends; did it work?” Louis laughs, and Harry looks even more uncertain now. “So, it didn’t work?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So, it worked.”

“I didn’t say that either.”

Harry frowns, confused. It’s adorable. He’s so easily flustered, bottom lip already turning red as he bites down.

Louis wants to wreck him.

* * *

In what seems like ages later, but in reality is less than an hour, Louis’ got Harry pressed up against a brick wall, Harry’s tongue down his throat and his thigh shoved between Harry’s legs. Logically, he knows the dark only affords them so much secrecy, but riding on the back of Harry’s motorbike had riled him up so much - riled them both up,  really - that neither of them cares much where they are. 

(Louis’ too turned-on to remember where he lives, anyway.)

“Your jeans. Are too. Bloody tight.” he grits out as he unsuccessfully attempts to shove his hand down Harry’s painted-on skinnies. 

Harry manages to gasp a barely audible “sorry” before hurriedly popping buttons and pulling down zippers and shoving his trousers down his (perfect, creamy) thighs with enough practised ease that should probably make Louis jealous. Only, he’s not, because it’s him Harry’s getting naked for, it’s him Harry’s showing his massive willy to. Fuck everything else. Everyone else. Louis’ got better things to do. 

(Literally.)

**Author's Note:**

> reblog the fic post on tumblr [here](http://velvetnoodle.tumblr.com/post/179187697742/louis-first-mistake-was-pretending-he-actually)!


End file.
